There will be days when it exhausts you, being a shock absorber for everyone else’s sad attitudes toward their own bodies. There will be days when you are wrung out, a sponge cleaning up the messes of others misperceptions…
My face burned until I decided that I didn’t mind being seen by him. “I liked the way your hair moved,” I said. “It looked like it was shouting.”
…ere my mother no longer pretended to quit smoking and my father’s table saw was covered with boxes. Somewhere between remembering and forgetting was knowing, which was in some way worst of all because it was a constant, creeping ache.